


Blindsighted

by Shiropropaganda



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Mild sensuality, Oblivious Pining, Post Series, Set Ups, blind dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 05:30:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15163712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiropropaganda/pseuds/Shiropropaganda
Summary: Post Series: Paladins have been back and living on earth for five years.Lance is itching to set Shiro up on a blind date. Confusion ensues.





	Blindsighted

 

Shiro knows he agreed to this.

But he wishes he hadn’t.

Lance had been badgering him for weeks about meeting his friend for dinner-- or as Lance called it ~ _ dinnnnnnnerrrrrrrr _ ~ complete with wiggling eyebrows and an over dramatic wink that Shiro mistook for a minor seizure.

Lance had been  _ so _ insistent that after twenty days, nine hours, and forty two minutes-- Lance’s calculation, not his-- he finally caved in. 

 

Rewind.

 

“Shiro, you have to meet my friend,” Lance tugged on his arm while he worked, putting some suggestions on the blueprints for the Garrison’s first inter-planetary trading hub.

Shiro would have just ignored him, but he’d taken off his prosthetic earlier in the evening, so Lance’s tug made his hand slip and his notes illegible, so he met the younger man’s gaze with a frown.

“I don’t need to meet anyone,” he said firmly, “I’m busy enough as it is.”

Lance did his best not to roll his eyes, but Shiro saw the movement beneath his eyelids anyway.  He  _ isn’t _ actually that busy-- sure he helps oversee the Garrison project, but it’s almost like working with the team again, except that they aren’t constantly on the run or fighting for their lives.

It means they have a lot of down time, and while Shiro does volunteer at the martial arts center in town, he definitely spends too much time in his fancy penthouse apartment playing video games, or stargazing on the roof.  He isn’t  _ alone _ when he does any of this, not really. The others play with him from their own apartments, and when Shiro fails to lure Keith out of the desert, they video call each other and point out star patterns. The last few times they’d both fallen asleep while on the call, and Shiro woke to the sun breaking the horizon and Keith’s soft snore over the holophone’s speakers.

Shiro’s face went a bit red while arguing his last point, and he noticed Lance’s eyes narrow, but the younger man just sighed.

“You need to go out with my friend,” he said firmly, “You’ll really,  _ really _ , like them.”

Shiro waved him off with a grumble of  _ maybe _ and thought Lance seemed appeased enough.

But oh, how he was wrong.

  
  


“Lance keeps trying to set me up,” Shiro complains, sprawled out on his roof. 

He sees the screen move quickly, and suddenly has a view of the stars. After a moment Keith’s face appears.

“Sorry, I dropped you,” he mumbles-- his face looks a bit red, “What did you tell him?”

Keith’s voice sounds a bit tight, like he’s speaking through gritted teeth, and Shiro worries he’s getting sick.

“I said maybe, just to get him to shut up.”

Keith laughs at that, sounding more normal.

“He asked me to meet someone he knows, too, but I wasn’t as nice as you.”

Shiro’s heart fumbles in his chest as Keith sets his holophone on its stand and lays down, his entire body now in the frame, and Shiro’s mouth goes dry.   
Maybe  _ he’s _ the one getting sick.

 

He and Keith sneak the black lion out sometimes.

He says “sneak” as though they didn’t have to scan their IDs at seven different security points to access her-- Keith grumbles every time, he’s not on Garrison payroll but still has top security clearance, something Shiro fought for the moment they agreed to put the lions under lock and key.

“I could break in and get her without all this hassle,” the younger man complains, albeit quietly, “I could crack this in less than an hour.”

Shiro believes him, has seen him do it, but he’s always felt more comfortable going through the bureaucratic motions than Keith has. Shiro grew up playing the game, Keith got dragged into it and has been kicking and screaming ever since.

They never go very far, sometimes just to Kerberos and back, but it feels good. Black rumbles happily to both of them-- gratitude for allowing her to stretch her legs.

“I, uh,” Shiro clears his throat a few times, “I got suckered into meeting Lance’s friend later this week.”

Keith stiffens a bit, Shiro can feel the tension where his hand rests on Keith’s shoulder and automatically digs his fingers in to massage the muscle.

“How did that happen?” Keith asks after a moment, leaning into the pressure on his shoulder.

Shiro launches into the embarrassing tale of how he and Lance got really drunk and started betting during a game of Monsters and Mana. Shiro had bet that his character would end with the highest HP increase, and Lance betted that Shiro’s paladin would die in the first twenty minutes.

Shiro had been doing very well, honestly, but at the eighteen minute mark Hunk had sneezed mid-tamale and hit the table with such force that Shiro’s poor paladin flew off the board. The game made the tell-tale death sound and Shiro gaped open mouthed at Hunk for a solid minute.

“HA!” Lance had all but crowed his victory, and Shiro attempted to argue, but Coran and Pidge ganged up on him, citing the hefty rulebook.

Keith, to his credit, doesn’t laugh at him. There’s a smirk forming on his lips though, and Shiro breathes heavily through his nose, reminding himself that his friends don’t  _ actually _ all suck-- but it’s a close thing.

“Maybe you’ll have fun?” Keith offers, and Shiro groans.

A warning bell sounds that Black was approaching the edge of her Garrison-enforced perimeter, and she and Keith both roll their eyes. Usually, Keith would curse a bit and hit the throttle, skating obnoxiously close to the boundary and making Shiro complain about all the paperwork he’d be stuck with if they crossed over the imaginary line, but today he’s quiet as he turns Black back towards Earth.

“I think I’ll meet Lance’s other friend,” he says suddenly, and Shiro feels his stomach clench, “You know, in solidarity of your suffering.”

Shiro is touched by his loyalty, but does his best to assure Keith the gesture isn’t necessary. The younger man waves off his protests.

“At best, it’s fun,” he says casually, looking at Shiro out of the corner of his eye, “at worst, we’ll have something new to talk about. Besides, this is  _ Lance _ , do you really think he truly thought any of this through?”

Shiro suddenly feels much better.  
  


And so, he finds himself standing awkwardly at the doorway of a retro-space-themed diner, eyes scanning around for whoever Lance had been trying to set him up with. Lance refused to give him any sort of description of his date, just slapped him on the back and said,  _ Oh you’ll know,  _ before driving off.

He’s about to sit at an empty table to wait awkwardly when he spots a mess of dark hair and a red leather jacket strewn across a table.

“Lance clearly is losing his creative spark,” he says with a grin, sliding into the booth across from Keith.

The younger man jumps a bit at his sudden presence, but relaxes into the seat when he realizes it’s Shiro.

“Maybe he wanted us to double up?” 

Shiro doubts it very much, Lance is cruel enough to want them each to flounder.

“Who should I keep an eye out for?” He asks, eyes trained on the door.

Keith shrugs and shows him Lance’s last message,  _ They’ll find you! _

“Ominous,” Shiro says, he stretches his arms across the back of his booth, “Good thing I showed up, I can defend you.”

The younger man gives him a blank look and then snorts into his palm. Shiro can’t help but grin in return.

After about twenty minutes, Shiro stops watching the door. It isn’t a conscious thing, it’s just that Keith’s face is magnetic when he gets into telling a story and this one is intriguing enough that he’s started using his hands and almost knocks into the waitress who comes to refill their coffee. 

A bit later she clears her throat and asks if they’re still waiting to order, and Keith and Shiro both check the time on their holophones.

It’s been an hour and a half. They grapple over the single menu for a minute and then Keith hauls himself over the table, plopping beside Shiro so they can share it. 

It’s when they’re leaving the diner a few hours— and too many fries— later that Shiro remembers that Lance dropped him off. He explains this to Keith who just shakes his head and retrieves his extra helmet from the small storage space on his bike, tossing it to Shiro.

He hasn’t been on a ride in a long time— and sure they take Black out every few weeks, but being on the bike is different. Shiro likes flying close to the ground as much as he likes being miles away from it, and he likes that Keith handles his bike without the awkward “do you wanna pilot or…?” that they  _ still _ do every time they step on the lion.

They don’t head out very far-- just to the canyon where they first discovered Blue, sitting and watching the sunset. Shiro bumps Keith with his shoulder where they sit.

“Were you going to take your date here?” he asks the words sound ashy as they tumble out, but he forces a grin.

Keith snorts.

“No.”

Shiro feels like there is more explanation behind his reply, but he learned a long time ago when to push Keith to open up, and when to pretend he hadn’t noticed. They sit comfortably for a while, and then Keith nudges his arm with his head.

“I’m glad they both flaked out,” he says, voice quiet, “I’m glad you were there instead.”

Shiro doesn’t try to hide his smile.

“Me too.”

 

They end up back on Shiro’s roof. Keith has some great ideas about the Garrison project, and they end up talking until the late hours of the night.

“Well,” Shiro says, stepping out with Keith to wait for the elevator, “this is probably the best date I’ve ever had.”

Keith smiles at him, bumping Shiro’s hip with his own.

“Aww you like me,” he teases, and Shiro’s stomach flips.

“Of course I do,” he replies without hesitation and Keith looks at him from under his lashes for a long moment before burying himself in Shiro’s chest for a hug goodbye.

The embrace goes on for too long, Shiro knows, but he also knows that Keith is warm and solid and  _ home  _ so he indulges himself in it for as long as the younger man will allow.

When Keith’s arms loosen, it’s not all the way, just enough for him to lean back and look up at Shiro with dark eyes.

“I don’t want to go home,” he murmurs quietly, eyes wide and searching for something and then it clicks in Shiro’s mind.

His mouth goes dry and he clears his throat a few times before he can speak, but Keith is already stepping back and averting his eyes.

Shiro’s hand closes around his wrist and his other hand tips Keith’s face back up, a light touch under his chin. 

“Stay,” he says, and he sounds broken—  _ feels _ broken, because this is  _ Keith _ and there’s really never been anyone else.

Keith holds his gaze with a quiet ferocity and Shiro watches the caution drain from his eyes, and then they’re kissing. Shiro’s back hits the wall beside the still-open door as he angles his mouth, fingers slipping from Keith’s jaw to the nape of his neck. 

He doesn’t know how long they stand there, but eventually Keith’s hands have traveled every inch of Shiro’s arms and chest and his fingers dig into shoulders as he presses his body closer. Shiro takes the hint and scoops him up by the backs of his thighs, letting Keith push the door closed behind them as they go inside.

Shiro doesn’t have the kinds of things they’d need to take this very far, but Keith makes his body burn with his hands and his mouth, and lets him touch and taste in return. The sun is rising by the time they lay showered and satisfied, curled into each other on the fresh sheets Shiro haphazardly threw oh the bed while Keith warmed the water.

“Definitely the best date I ever had,” Shiro murmurs into the younger man’s neck, his breath stirring dark hair that tickles his nose.

“Awww you love me,” Keith mumbles, and a moment later he’s snoring.

“Of course I do,” Shiro mouths against his collarbone and then lets himself sleep.

 

Shiro’s body wakes him out of habit a few hours later. Keith isn’t there but he can hear the younger man in the kitchen and smell coffee being brewed. He climbs out of bed and pulls on some sleep pants before padding out himself.

Keith greets him in his briefs and one of Shiro’s old T-shirts. He presses a cup of coffee into his hand and a kiss to his jaw and Shiro immediately puts down his drink to gather the younger man closer and kiss him properly. 

Shiro’s prosthetic is still hooked to the charger from the night before so he grips the counter one handed as Keith settles on his knees on his kitchen floor, pulling the soft fabric of Shiro’s pants down just enough to—

There’s a loud bang on Shiro’s front door and then the sound of the code being tapped into the keypad and— shit he forgot it was Sunday.

Lance is the first person through the door, hands full of fruit, and the others follow. Shiro turns, grateful the kitchen counter blocks his lower half from view. He didn’t quite catch when Keith slipped back into his bedroom, but he’s pleased the younger man hadn’t lost his stealth skills.

“Where is he?” Lance demands, looking around the apartment speculatively.

“Who?” Shiro asks innocently taking a swig of coffee.

“Keith’s bike is in the parking lot,” Pidge says flatly, setting down one bag filled with various juices and another topped with champagne.

Keith wanders out of Shiro’s room with his phone in hand a moment later.

“Thanks Shiro I really needed the charge,” he says with a grin, “oh hey you all finally made it.”

Shiro doesn’t remember Keith being good at lying, but he is fully convinced of his cover.

Unfortunately Pidge is not and she whispers something in Lance’s ear, but not before Hunk crosses the kitchen, right up in Shiro’s space.

“What the hell did you get into, man?” He asks, finger poking at Shiro’s clavicle and—

There’s a bite mark.

To be honest, there’s a lot of bite marks and Shiro feels the blood leave his face for a moment before slamming back and burning his skin red.

“HA!” Lance throws his hands up triumphantly, “You got laid! I knew it!”

Keith clears his throat from where he’s leaned against the counter.

“Shiro’s date never showed up last night,” he says giving Lance a look, “so you’re wrong.”

Lance, Hunk and Pidge share a glance that makes Shiro very uncomfortable.

“Neither did Keith’s,” Shiro adds, crossing his arms and wishing he’d have pulled on a shirt.

“No way,” Hunk says, his voice full of awe.

“You guys,” Lance says giving them both a pleading look, “come on you have to  _ know _ .”

Apparently the confusion shows on both of their faces, because Lance starts looking worried and Pidge starts looking triumphant and whenever that happens so does danger.

“It was a setup,” Lance says slowly.

“Yeah and no one showed up,” Keith says equally slowly and full of condescension.

“No,” Hunk says, hands up and voice soft like he’s trying to avoid a confrontation, “guys—”

“This is stupid,” Pidge interrupts pushing up her glasses, “Lance doesn’t have any friends, he set you up with each other.”

The silence in the room stretches for a few tense minutes before Shiro lets out a soft  _ Ohhhh. _

He and Keith share a glance before averting their eyes quickly. Shiro clears his throat and starts pouring coffee and Keith busies himself cutting the fruit Lance brought. The others stare at them for a while until Pidge breaks the silence.

“So,” she smirks, “Lance owes me half his next paycheck.”

**Author's Note:**

> For my lovely Allison, who helped give me prompts when I was sad.
> 
> Scream at me on Twitter or tumblr!  
> @shiropropaganda


End file.
